Return To Hogwarts
by Tilena
Summary: At 22, Hermione has returned to Hogwarts to fill a teaching position. Is she also running from something? Will she find something, perhaps love? r&r appreciated.
1. chapter 01

I do not own Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley, or any of the others that go along with the Harry Potter series. They belong to J. K. Rowling. I have written this fanfiction for fun, not profit. I don't have any money. =P

****

Return to Hogwarts

Chapter 01

Welcome to Hogwarts, Hermione Granger thought cynically. Her eyes surveyed the old castle, and found that nothing had changed. She hadn't expected anything to. Still, as she was ushered inside, somewhere in the back of her mind she felt prickles of excitement and maybe even joy at being back. Her former school and the place where she had met her two best friends... make that best friend, singular, was now her home once more. She avoided thinking of the past, however, as she unpacked her belongings and settled into her new room.

Pictures were put up, clothes were put away, and books were placed upon shelves as she used her first day back to organize everything just so. There was a lot to be said for living alone, and she now had no doubts that having things her way was at the top of the list for Reasons Why.

Her eyes, sometimes hazel, sometimes brown, and sometimes almost pure green, scanned the row of books that were in line neatly on the shelves. A smile touched upon her lips when she saw the books written by Gilderoy Lockhart. Written, but not actually lived by the man. Still, they had fairly decent advice. For all that he was -- an idiot with a good memory charm -- he did have pretty good writing abilities, and he hadn't changed much. Except, of course, for the basic fact that he was not the hero in the books.

But, as were many things, that was all in the past. Former Professor Lockhart was now rebuilding his life, but the funniest part was that though he could master spells that were beyond his reach before, he now could not perform a memory charm for the life of him. And she, Hermione Granger, was now stepping up to take her place as yet another teacher at the Hogwarts School of Wizardry. Since before she was a student there, and after she had graduated, there was always a place in need of filling. Defense Against the Dark Arts couldn't seem to keep a teacher. Rumors flew about how it was cursed, most likely by Severus Snape. Hermione knew why the teachers never lasted, and she doubted any of the reasons had to do with Snape. Certainly, Quirrell's two-faced ways, both literally and figuratively speaking, had not been brought about by Snape! And, she admitted grudgingly, Lupin's leaving also had nothing to do with the greasy-haired professor.

Hermoine snapped out of her thinking and glanced at her muggle clock. Her parents had bought it for her, and though she had much more accurate ways of telling the time, she was still touched by their gesture. Unfortunately, she was not as pleased with the time. She had to change quickly and get to the Great Hall if she was going to make it on time to her own festive dinner. She wasn't sure what to call it, but it was a mix between her welcoming banquet and the sorting of the students. Her students, she thought with a shock. She never thought she would become a teacher, but after she left Hogwarts, she had realized just what she wanted to do -- learn and share what she had learned. Finally, her bossy nature had been an asset, and she soared through college easily. At first, she wasn't sure if she wanted to be a muggle teacher or a witch teacher, but after the first semester at a muggle college, she quickly decided that it wasn't challenging enough.

Slip on the robes, tie this here, and button this there and... viola! She was ready for her first dinner as Professor Granger. Now, to make it on time was a different story. She exited her quarters, which were near the chambers in which her classes were set, and walked demurely by some students who were making their way to the Great Hall, also. She turned corner, and took off at a run. Her feet carried her swiftly through the corridors, past familiar pictures that shouted greetings at her, and made her way up and down some tricky staircases that tried to move beneath her. She made it to the Great Hall in record time, and even managed to smooth her hair down before entering the back way and taking the chair that Professor Dumbledore indicated to her with a nod of his head. She smiled gratefully and tried to be very subtle at the way she labored to catch her breath.

The rest of the professors filled the chairs at the staff table, and then the students started to file in. Hermione had to cover her mouth with a dainty hand when she noticed the Gryffindors and Slytherins giving each other dirty looks already. Yup, things were still the same. Finally, when all the second years and up were seated, the first years were brought in.

The sorting started. And went on. And on. And on. Hermione could've sworn it wasn't this long and, well, boring when she was a student here. Then again, she thought, she didn't have a specific house to which her allegiance was sworn. Or whatever it was that she had gone through when she was sorted to Gryffindor.

Finally, when it was done, there was a sigh of relief to match her own. Curious, she identified the source of the slight sound to her favorite Potions professor. He seemed to have heard her sigh, too, because he was looking at her with a most distasteful look on his face. She was beginning to think that countenance was permanently etched on. She blinked and had to look away. Not even back a day and already she was falling into her old patterns of thinking!

Dumbledore stood and made a few announcements, which were the usual warnings to stay away from the Forbidden Forest and some others. He then cleared his throat. "As we all know, Hogwarts has a tradition of eating up Defense Against the Dark Arts teachers faster than students do chocolate frogs," he started, receiving a few chuckles at the comparison. "I hope that the same does not happen to our new addition, Professor Granger."

Hermione stood up and smiled. Since the accident with Draco Malfoy some years ago, she no longer was afraid to show her teeth. Her hair had settled much (with the help of a charm or two) and she had, much to her dismay, grown a rather large chest. In short, she was everything she despised but wanted to be when she was younger. Thus, it was no surprise to her when some of the male students began to eye her appraisingly. She ignored it. 

"I hope we will have a great year," said Hermione sincerely. "I don't expect you to go easy on me because I'm the new teacher, but I won't go easy on you, either." With that said, she smiled again and sat down.

Dumbledore winked at the students. "Professor Granger was a student here not too long ago, so she remembers well what it was like!" He then launched into his string of gibberish words, and the feast commenced.

Later, Hermione wished she hadn't eaten so well. She couldn't remember the last time that she had eaten so much and her stomach was not only twisting, it was also threatening to violently shove all the food back out. If there was one thing she hated, it was being sick. However, one thing she hated more was being babied. So instead of going to Madam Pomfrey, who could've quickly made her feel 100% again, she was curled up in her bed, the cool sheets offering no reprieve. The food had been, as always, excellent. The air around her was so happy. Enough so to make her forget, temporarily, what she wanted to forget.

And then came the pain. Stomachache triggered heartache. Funny, really. Being here, amidst the moving paintings and the ghosts, and, of course, the students and professors, brought back so many memories that she couldn't keep them all out. How it started, how it ran, and how it ended went through her mind again and again.

She threw the covers off of her in one dramatic gesture and made her way over to the window. On nights like these, it always comforted her to stare up at the stars. She perched in a chair that had been placed near the window for those purposes and glanced outside. Apparently even the stars were against her tonight. The normally bright sky was overcast, clouds spreading every way. Great way to start out the year, she thought bitterly.

Still, she was somewhat enthusiastic about the coming year. She had her own students, and she had liked the DAtDA classes when she was a student here. If truth be told, she would've rather taught Transfiguration, but there was no need for a teacher there. Professor McGonagall was still quite well. Minerva, she thought to herself. Professor Dumbl-- Albus, she corrected, had told her that she was a professor here, not a student. And being so entitled her to special privileges, such as being on a first name basis with the staff. Still, she couldn't imagine calling Filch "Argus!" He had become relatively tolerable in her last two years as a student, but he still found every which way to get Harry into trouble that he could think of. Even though it wasn't Harry's fault (Harry certainly hadn't let a basilisk loose on the school), it was clear that Filch still blamed him for the petrifying of Mrs. Norris.

She sighed as she settled back into bed. Glancing at her clock had told her that it was well past midnight, and therefore past her bedtime. She needed her rest. First thing, bright and early, she had a class. Even though her stomach still protested, she settled into bed and pulled the covered over her. "Goodnight, Hogwarts," she whispered.

The next evening she was glad that she had forced herself to ignore the pains in her stomach. She was, to be blunt, tired as hell. Her feet hurt, her head hurt, and her wand hand hurt. Part of it was from the sheer effort that it took not to hex some of the little buggers. She knew that she was much younger than most of the staff (and certainly Professor Binns, who was dead), but really! That was no reason to treat her with anything less than respect.

Or, at least, that was no reason to throw lewd love notes at her.

She wondered briefly if Minerva had gone through this harassment when she was younger. She couldn't imagine any insolent boys throwing notes at the frigid teacher. Hermione herself adored her mentor greatly, but to most others she was strict and unbending.

Hermione wondered just how the other teachers kept up with it all. There were not only seven different levels of students to remember, but also four different houses. It was enough to make her hair frizz.

She made a few turns, intending to skip out on dinner tonight and prop up her feet and promptly smacked into someone. "Oh, excuse me," she said automatically.

"I don't recall you making it a habit to walk into people, Miss Granger," drawled a slow, raspy voice.

Her heart clinched and she looked up into the face of Professor Snape. Severus, she reminded herself. "Not really, generally speaking," she replied, trying her best not to look nervous. She was a little surprised; he hadn't smelled all that bad, in spite of the greasy-hair and the rather nasty looking teeth.

"Well, do be careful from now on," he said, a sneer crossing his face. "I would prefer to be able to travel in the hallways... unmolested."

"Of course... Severus." She threw the his name in there, knowing full well what effect it would have. She didn't care. Molested, of all the nerve!

He scowled, his face twisting even more. "Farewell, _Miss Granger_." He turned, his cloak billowing out theatrically. She would have rolled her eyes and stuck her tongue out at his back, but she didn't think it would set a good example for the few students around.

Instead, she managed to get to her room without further incident. "I really must get some more pictures to hang on the walls," she said to herself. The room didn't seem quite so empty when there was noise in it. She did the logical thing then. She selected a CD from her favorite muggle band and popped it in. Our Lady Peace, the band was called, the CD being the new one titled "Gravity."

_Leave me alone_, the singer's voice echoed in her mind. She wanted to be alone and yet she didn't. Funny that she chose to be a teacher, then. Her eyes traveled over her pictures to one in particular -- of a big, ginger colored cat. Crookshanks. She missed him dearly, and she made up her mind to go into Diagon Alley as soon as she got paid. A new cat wouldn't replace her old friend, but perhaps she could get an owl instead. That would be fairly useful and she had seen Hedwig get pretty friendly. It wasn't the type of pet that would climb up into your lap, but she doubted that she would have much time for an animal like that anyway.

_We are, we are all innocent._ She smiled at this lyric, a smile of bitter anger. Are we, now? Is there anyone truly innocent anymore? She doubted it. She was not yet 23, but still she had seen so much in her life. The rise and fall of Voldemort, the rise and fall of her heart were some of the things. The rise, fall, and breaking into a million pieces of her heart was more like it. She growled and pushed the forward button on her CD player. Why had she chosen this damn CD? It all was depressing.

_When they say you're not that strong, you're not that weak, it's not your fault..._ she could've broken the CD player. Damn muggles and their damn music! The fact that she was of muggle lineage only served to increase her irritation. At least when a wizard or witch got pissed off at someone of the opposite sex (and sometimes, in some very delicious cases, she thought evilly, at someone of the same sex) a simple hex would do it. Her fine eyebrows drew together in a line. Of course, she thought, it might make some sort of strange, twisted pleasure to have the person squirm every time they heard the song playing.

Vengeful thoughts did not serve her well. Especially when they involved shoving a certain male's head in a room with speakers that blared music proclaiming her detest of him.

She threw herself back on her bed, letting her hair hang over the side. She thought about her day. Other than the offensive note -- where _had_ they learned such language? -- it hadn't been too bad. She guessed, anyway. No one blew anything up, much to her relief. She didn't know if she could handle a Neville.

With those thoughts in mind, she supposed she ought to prepare for tomorrow's classes. After all, she told herself, tomorrow is another day.


	2. chapter 02

I do not own Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley, or any of the others that go along with the Harry Potter series. They belong to J. K. Rowling. I have written this fanfiction for fun, not profit. I don't have any money. =P

****

Return to Hogwarts

Chapter 02

"I once had a professor who was obsessed with constant vigilance. Perhaps you don't need to be always on the alert, but keep your eyes and ears open. You learn a lot that way," Hermione wrapped up her class. A few months into the school year had made a huge difference not only in the way she was treated, but in the way she looked at her students. By this time she had learned their names, not to mention who hated who, who was dating who, and most importantly, who cared about their grades. Christmas was coming, unstoppable, and all that she had done to immerse herself in her work was soon going to be slammed into a brick wall.

Christmas: the most wonderful time of the year. Or, in her mind, the most contrived, greedy holiday of the year. She still went through the motions, because that's what everyone did. She went shopping. She sang Christmas songs. She even gave out a quiz before holidays because that's what being a teacher was all about. But she did not once enjoy the thought of going home for the holidays.

Her owl, Ceres, kept a close eye on the proceedings. She had delivered a few notes earlier, and Hermione had looked at all three and tossed them aside. "Oh, Ceres, what am I going to do?" Hermione murmured while smoothing down the gray colored feathers absently. "I don't want to go home, but what would Christmas be here?"

Hermione's eyes swept over the letters. The top one was from Harry. One was from her parents. And the last one was from him. It was he-who-must-not-be-named, she thought with an ironic smile. Though, of course, he would take offense to her comparing him with Voldemort. Then again, he took offense to everything she said or did.

"Miss Granger, are you in there?" a thick voice came from the other side of her classroom door. She sighed.

"Come in, Severus." He still insisted upon calling her Miss Granger. He couldn't even bring himself to call her professor, not even after three and a half months.

"Miss Granger, really. Must you keep that thing in here?" Snape inquired, his black eyes passing over Ceres. He shut the door behind him. "I have come to talk to you about Barus."

"Luke? What has he done?"

"More specifically, Miss Granger, it's what he hasn't done," Snape replied irritably. He shrugged off her offer to sit down. "Your class has so many students spending so much time on this blasted class that they haven't time for anything else."

Hermione frowned. It wasn't the first time that they had had this conversation, and she doubted it would be the last. "Do you want me to go easy on them?"

"I would like it if you didn't overload them. Imagine, they didn't even know the ingredients that go into simple potions that you learned your first year."

"I was, by no means, an ordinary student," she pointed out.

"These are third years," he snapped with a sneer.

"Perhaps you are too lax on your students," Hermione suggested, her eyes turning hard. The last thing she wanted right now was a confrontation with Severus Snape. "So, I suggest that instead of blaming me, look instead to yourself."

He sniffed disdainfully. "I'd rather hoped that you, Miss Granger, would understand the situation properly. Instead, I again see that you are too stubborn for your own good."

"Is that a threat, Severus?" she inquired mildly. Her voice was much calmer than she felt right now, but she would never let him know that.

"Consider it an observation," replied he. A strand of his black hair fell into his face, the contrast between it and his skin startling. "I am offering a suggestion to you, colleague to colleague."

"And what would that be?" Hermione asked, her fear making way for the irritation that was quickly shoving it out of the way.

"Don't make enemies with your peers. It was hard enough as a student, but professors..." he trailed off.

"Professors have to stick together and be happy and jolly?" she finished for him. "Really, Snape. I would have hoped that you could speak to me as Professor Hermione Granger, rather than Hermione Granger the student. But apparently I have overestimated you." Her words were almost brash; they slipped out before she could stop them. As she watched Snape turn an interesting shade of mottled red and then finally settle back into his normal, pale color, her heart leapt many different ways. Instead of letting him see the blush that was threatening, however, she bent her head over the tests she had just collected and started grading.

"As always, you have a rather... plain way of expressing yourself," he remarked, putting the emphasis on plain.

"You should have expected no less from me." She ignored the hint that she was plain, not just her way of speaking.

"Indeed. I shall keep that in mind." He stood over her desk, casting a light on her students' papers. He stood there for several moments until she looked up at him.

"Is there something else, Severus?"

He smiled at her, and inwardly her stomach turned at the sight of his crooked and blackened teeth. Rather like the smile: crooked and dark. "Hermione Granger the student was always flanked by her posse. Professor Granger, however, is alone. I wonder why."

Before she could hide it, her face flushed and sparks fairly shot from her eyes. She opened her mouth to reply, but he had turned and swept out of the room. She banged her fist on the desk, startling Ceres. "Damn the man," she muttered through gritted teeth.

Unbidden, her eyes drifted to the letters she had received. Sighing, she opened the one from her parents first. Her mother's neat handwriting greeting her eyes.

__

"Hermione,

"Are you coming home for Christmas? You haven't written us much since the term started, but we understand that you are busy. We still miss our little girl, though! Our business is doing well, and some of the "changes" that you have made to our equipment are working out excellently. I won't go into details, as I remember how much you hate hearing about some of the gorier details, but suffice it to say that everything is going as planned.

"We are worried about you, Hermione. We have received some letters from you-know-who, and he sounds genuinely sorry. I know that I can't change your mind, but I can ask you to at least think about it.

"Please let us know if you are coming home! We will make a large ham or turkey, or whatever it is that you want!

With love,

Your mother and father."

Hermione sighed. They would ask her about that. She made a mental note to write them back later, and opened Harry's letter.

__

"Hey, Mione!

How are you? How is the teaching going? You haven't really said much on it, but I understand. If I had to work with a git like Snape, I wouldn't want to talk about it, either."

Hermione had to smile at this. She continued reading.

"_Everything is going the same as always. Being an Auror has it's ups and downs, of course, but more ups than downs lately. Since there is no way that Voldemort is coming back, most of the crimes that we are handling have to do with petty offenses. The worst was some idiot like Lockhart. He was actually trying to be like the smiling dolt, can you believe it? Unfortunately for him, fortunately for us, he was terrible at any type of magic, including memory charms._

"Anyway, to warn you, you're going to be getting a letter from him soon. He misses you, Hermione. We both do. Please write me back, at least.

Love,

Harry."

Hermione's eyes lingered on the last letter. She sighed, reached for it, and pulled back. The bold, black lettering could only belong to one person. Bless Harry for trying to warn her, but it was too little, too late. Finally, her hand clasped over the envelope. She was almost surprised that it didn't burn or that she didn't suffer some agitation, other than the emotional kind.

__

"Dear Hermione,

"Hello. I, uh, don't really know what to say."

I bet not, you bastard, she thought savagely.

_"I bet you're surprised to hear from me. I hope you are reading this, and not currently shredding it and setting fire to each piece."_

__Now, there was an idea for Hermione to explore. Her curiosity had taken hold, though, and she continued to read the letter with an almost morbid curiosity.

_"I know what I did was wrong. I'll admit it. There's no point in lying anymore. I can't pretend that nothing happened anymore. It's too hard. I miss you too much."_

__Hermione noted the drops on the paper, almost as if someone was crying while writing it. Interesting.

_"I don't know if I can do this right, or wrong, or whatever, but I'm writing to ask for your forgiveness. If nothing else, please, let me explain myself. There aren't any excuses, but I want you to hear the whole story, not just bits and pieces and what you saw. I love you, Hermione. I don't know what I'm doing without you._

Ron."

~~

Author's note: Hello there. To answer if this is going to be a Hermione/Draco fic, maybe, maybe not. I don't have a plan yet as to where this is going, because this is going so far mostly about Hermione and I'm writing it as I go along. I also don't like to give away secrets, so you'll just have to read and find out. ;) If you enjoy it, or if you think this is garbage, please leave me a comment and let me know! I'm dying to hear what people think, and of course, reviews are the fuel for writers. ^_^


	3. chapter 03

I do not own Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley, or any of the others that go along with the Harry Potter series. They belong to J. K. Rowling. I have written this fanfiction for fun, not profit. I don't have any money. =P

**Return to Hogwarts  
Chapter 03**

Spring was warm. Spring was friendly. Spring was the time of love.

But it wasn't for Hermione. Spring had left her cold, lonely, and, for the first time in her life, untrusting. 

The letter that Ron had wrote her lay beneath her fingers, where it had been for the past two hours. She stared into space, nothing charming her eyes or bringing her out of her trance. Her mind was somewhere far off.

Hermione had thought that her life was all right. Better than all right, actually. She had a boyfriend, a best friend, she was happy with the job that she worked at, and she thought it was all going great. She was wrong.

It was too cliched. She was supposed to be working, but a co-worker needed to pick up a shift. She didn't need the money too much, so she agreed. Figuring that Ron would be happy to see her, she decided to just drop by. Well, he was surprised. He was also naked and entangled in someone else. She recognized the witch as a lesser employee at the Ministry, one who she hadn't really gotten the chance to know before.

As she stood in the doorway, her eyes huge and her face as pale as a Malfoy's, Ron had stumbled away from his lover and managed to pull some jeans on. He made it over to where she was, tried to lay a hand on her, and for the first time in her life she had pulled out her wand and almost cursed someone maliciously. She stood there, shaking, her wand hand wavering uncertainly. He was saying something to her, but she couldn't hear it. All she could see was his arms around that other woman and his lips on her mouth.

The part that took the cake was when the other witch got out of bed and put her arms around Ron. Her naked body was pressed against Hermione's boyfriend.

It was all Hermione could to do keep from casting an Unforgivable curse upon the both of them, Avada Kedavra. She turned and stumbled out of the room and down the hallway. Before Ron could reach her, she disapparated back to her small apartment in the Muggle world. It was there that she allowed herself to cry.

She set her face in her hands and cried until she couldn't cry anymore. Her eyes were red and puffy, and her whole body hurt, but she didn't care. She wished that crying had made her feel better, but it had never solved anything. It almost got her killed, back in her first year. Her lower lip quivered as she thought of when Harry and Ron came to rescue her from the troll. It had always been Hermione, Harry, and Ron. Then it was Hermione, Ron, and Harry, but he never seemed like a third wheel. When he went out with Cho Chang for a few months things changed a little, but not much. Finally, when he settled on Ginny Weasley, much to the girl's delight, things seemed to fit. Hermione and Ginny, best friends. Ron and Harry, best friends.

What had she done wrong? What had made him stray from her like this? The knowledge that she possessed rankled bitterly in her mind. She knew what it was.

Hermione was, without a doubt, a virgin. Even though she and Ron had dated for years, she still refused to give him the "satisfaction" that he would have liked. Even thinking about it now turned her face a more solid shade of red. She never quite understood why it was she refused to give her virginity away to him, but it had been the center of many fights.

She wanted to go back to her room. Her room was her retreat. She had spent quite a bit of time in the past few months turning it around, making it her own. Some people whispered that it was foolish, but she was not going to be another teacher who was just a mark on the Defense Against the Dark Arts wall. She was here to stay, regardless of what anyone else said.

And she wasn't running away, she told herself. She had done enough of that, until she stumbled into Dumbledore during the summer. He hadn't said anything to her about Harry or Ron; instead, he had asked her some casual questions about her schooling. She had the feeling that he already knew, but she was still surprised when he told her that she might want to apply for a teaching job.

So she had, and here she was. She walked, carefully avoiding any student's inquisitive eyes, purposefully to her room. Her students had already learned that when she walked like that it was best not to get in her way. She closed the door softly behind her and glanced around. The soft glow from the clock told her what time it was. She had felt like an absolute prat when she finally realized why it was that her clock and CD player worked her. Of course, she had felt even stupider when she realized that they shouldn't, but that was really beside the point. It was sweet of her parents to get someone to enchant the items to work in the magical world.

Everyone was trying to be nice and thoughtful, walking on eggshells around poor Hermione. It was almost sickening. She never wanted this kind of attention, and she was furious at Ron for attracting it to her. He had called her family, drunk and sniveling, begging for them to help him get her back. They hadn't even know what in the world he was talking about. They soon found out and they treated her like glass.

It disgusted her, almost as much as the way that Ron had betrayed her. Almost, but not quite. She knew that her family cared, and she didn't push Harry away. Harry hadn't even known. As wrong as it sounded, even in her own mind, she was selfishly grateful that Harry was just as foolish to Ron's true nature as she was. He hadn't deceived her. He hadn't betrayed her.

Memories and nightmares, she told herself. That's all they were. At least she had the opportunity to be alone with her thoughts. Her students had quite enough of Professor Granger for one day, and though she tried, she couldn't quite communicate with the other professors. She was too young, and at times, she felt almost as if she was better than they were. She blushed with shame at the very thought, but her mind just absorbed information so quickly, whereas they took time to adjust to new ideas. She felt out of place here, just as she had almost everywhere else. She couldn't help but to feel this way. It wasn't as though she really did belong. The things that welcomed her the most were inanimate, unfeeling objects -- books. And that was fine with her. The last thing she needed was more coddling, or worse, someone else trying to get close.

Her mind wandered from one thing to another, and settled on Voldemort. His defeat had been the highest point in her life thus far. At first, the celebration had been cautious, waiting for a sign of him. After all, Harry Potter had defeated him some years ago and yet he managed to rise again, like a distorted phoenix. However, when Harry had brought solid proof of the defeat of the Dark Lord, the rejoicing was genuine and uninhibited. The Ministry had worked overtime to ensure that Muggles remained safely in the dark about the magical world that lay right beneath their noses. Again, owls flew in the daytime and fireworks were abundant; even witches in the Americas set off their own celebration. She had heard that it surpassed their Fourth of July ceremonial fireworks display.

Harry was, of course, The Boy Who Lived, and thus he was the one to eventually go head-to-head with the enemy of the "mudbloods" and those who associated with them. It had been expected for Harry to do so since Voldemort's return first loomed, and he had seen it through.

Hermione traced a small scar on her hand. She had been a behind the scenes sort of witch, neither Ron nor Harry allowing her to get too involved. Her scar was from a run in with a lesser Death Eater. It was nothing like Harry's; in fact, it occurred when the idiot tried to use his wand on her and it slipped out of his hand. The wand, being attuned to its owner and no other, promptly burned her hand. Freak accident, really.

She spread out on her bed, wishing that she could skip tonight's dinner. Unfortunately, she had already gotten out of as many as she could. Too many, and questions would start to be asked. Hermione had a feeling that Dumbledore already knew what had transpired between her and Ron, but he had the courtesy not to mention anything about it. There wasn't much that escaped the older man, and if it had, she was sure that Harry would've informed him about it, anyway.

"What to wear," she murmured, looking around. She didn't want to wear her classroom robes, but she didn't feel like dressing up either. Something simple and black would suffice. There was no need to be colorful, and she didn't feel up to it, either.

She stood and peeled her robes off. Though she had never quite gotten over her full aversion to house elf slavery, she now understood that, for the most part, they liked their roles in life. She wasn't quite sure why this was -- whether it was something they were born with or something that was set in their minds from a young age (though she had never really seen a young house elf). Still, she had long ago resigned herself to the fact that they, for some reason, liked to do what they did and they pushed her out the door when she tried to cook or clean. So, instead of getting irritated and storming down to the laundry area, she put her clothing through the small door. It wasn't a chute, but it served as one when it magically sent the dirty clothes down to the laundry room.

She glanced at herself in the mirror. She had on plain, Muggle clothing -- a sweater paired with jeans. Comfortable, but nothing special, kind of like her. She sighed yet again, stomping her foot. "Snap out of it, girl!" she exclaimed. "Time to turn a new leaf, that kind of thing. Just because I'm a professor doesn't mean I have to be dour like Snape!"

With that said, she went over to her wardrobe and pulled out a robe. It wasn't the most glamorous thing, or the newest, but it was comfortable and flattering. A touch of lip-gloss (she preferred not to have her lips stained a completely unnatural color) and some mascara finished off her look. She surveyed herself in the mirror. Her eyes were still a bit puffy from crying, but a small charm fixed that right up. Not too bad, Hermione, she thought.

She felt almost pretty as she made her way down to the Great Hall. Some of the students were looking at her much in the same way that they had on her day of introduction. They had a hungry look that she doubted came fully from empty tummies. It still bothered her slightly to be thought of that way, but she could deal. Maybe someday she'd even look at it as an ego boost.

She took her place at the teachers' table, greeting Professor Sprout (she never was sure of her first name) and Severus. The greeting was returned from the former and she got a sneer from the latter. She glanced around, intending to ask Minerva a question, when her eyes locked with a pair of familiar gray ones.

"Well, well. Hello, Granger," said Draco Malfoy.

"Hello, Malfoy," she replied, too stunned to think of anything else to say.

He smirked at her in his usual, trademark way, then turned back to someone on his left. She blinked, searching her mind frantically. Was tonight some sort of special dinner?

As if he had heard her thoughts, Albus stood and cleared his throat. Immediately the Hall became quiet. "As some of you have undoubtedly noticed, we have some guests tonight. They are here, surveying Hogwarts and watching the students. Best behavior would be appreciated, but not necessary. Please be polite, and, as always, all the same rules still apply." With that short speech, he sat back down and said the words that meant that dinner had started.

Hermione picked at her food gingerly, not really noticing the taste. Draco Malfoy? What in the world was he doing here? She recognized the person on the other side of the pale man as working at the Ministry. What kind of watching were they doing?

Her questions, for now, went unanswered. She finished her meal and went back to her classroom, where she continued grading her quizzes. Much to her delight, her students had done well, thus proving that she didn't need to load them down for the holidays.

"Well, now, Granger, that wasn't very nice of you."

Without lifting her head she could envision Malfoy's arrogant stance, leaning slightly against the doorframe. "What do you want?" she inquired, trying not too sound too irritated. It would only delight him.

"Why, I only wanted to catch up with old school mates," he replied, his voice innocent.

She glanced up at him to see that he was indeed standing in the same way that she had seen in her mind. "I don't know what you're playing at, Malfoy, but I know you would never consider me to be a schoolmate. I do believe your last words to me were something along the lines of 'good riddance, mudblood.'" A slight grimace crossed his face at her words. She wondered if he felt remorse for what had been said.

"You really hold a grudge, eh?" he asked, instead of confirming her thoughts.

She shrugged. "Sometimes. If it's important," she responded without thinking, then covered her mouth when she realized how that could be construed.

"So, I'm important, eh?"

She sighed. Of course he would pick that way to take it. Well, two could play at that. "No, not you. Only proving to you and others like you that mudbloods can be do as good, if not better, as you purebloods." Hermione took this opportunity to take a page out of his book as she looked at him smugly. "I do believe my grades in Hogwarts and my sequential college grades prove that I am quite accomplished."

He acceded to her statement with a slight incline of his head. "You did have better grades than I."

Hermione couldn't believe her ears. Here was Draco Malfoy, who had at one time teased her with a passion, calling her all sorts of names and playing pranks on her, giving her a compliment. Things cannot, she thought, get any stranger.

Little did she know. The night, as they say, was still young.

---

Author's note: Thank you very much to Zarek for pointing out that electronics do not work in Hogwarts! I had totally forgotten. Ah, well. I attempted to remedy that in this chapter. Anyway, I still don't know who to pair Hermione with, though I do know that eventually this will turn into a romance. Yes, yes, I know. I need to write something other than romance at some point in time, but as I do not have any in my life, I must turn to fanfiction to fill the void! Thanks for the reviews -- please keep them coming. After all, since I am now on winter break (and will be for another month), I have plenty of time to write... so long as I get reviews. (This is what's known as the dangling carrot in front of nose ploy. Please fall for it.)


	4. chapter 04

Blah blah blah, standard disclaimer stuff, I don't own this, blah blah blah, have no money, blah blah, for entertainment purposes only. Thank you.

****

Return to Hogwarts  
Chapter 04

Imagine that. Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger had a decent, civil conversation. Hermione never would have thought it was possible, had she not just been there. Even now, she somewhat doubted her sanity. Even thought Malfoy was nowhere near the Muggle-hating bastard that his father was he still had given her a hard enough time during their years together at Hogwarts.

Gone, however, was the jerk that had called her all sorts of disgusting names. They actually had a conversation that lasted over a half-hour without any sort of insult slipping from his lips. She had even tried to provoke him. She was a bit ashamed at that, but when it proved unsuccessful, she found herself to be almost relieved.

Hermione had forgotten all about Draco's position as one of the governors of the school, something that he had taken over when his father had lost his power and position in the ranks of Voldemort. Draco had never gone over to the darkness completely. He had started, but then pulled away and rebelled, much to his father's dismay and anger. There were rumors that Lucius had tried to kill Draco -- his own son -- but they had never been substantiated. Certainly Malfoy had never hinted towards it himself. She wouldn't have been surprised, though. She could almost see Lucius Malfoy's bloodless face become red as the anger rose.

All-in-all, she supposed it was not necessarily a bad thing that he was dead. She didn't like the loss of any human life, especially since there were so many attempts to take hers, but Lucius was a monster. She'd thought Draco would grow up to be just like him, and though her opinion of him wasn't exactly the best, tonight gave way to the possibility that he could be likable.

Hermione stripped down, preparing to step into the shower. The water was running and she was fussing with it, trying to get the right temperature. At least it was comfortable in her bathroom. 

She finally got the temperature right and stepped into the sprinkle of water. It was just the right pressure. She smiled to herself and began to lather up her hair. The vanilla scent of her shampoo relaxed her even more. It was one of those "happy" smells.

She still was a bit surprised at what had transpired earlier, but she attempted to rinse the thoughts away with the suds in her hair. Efficiently, she finished up her shower and stepped out to dry off. She plucked a fluffy white towel from its bar and bent over to dry her legs off. Her brain only half-registered the slight squeak of hinges.

"Hey, Granger, you forg--" ... long pause.

_Malfoy? _She froze, then realized that her bare bum was to the door. Straightening up slowly, she took her time in wrapping the towel around herself. Don't let him see you blush. And whatever you do, don't freak out. Count to ten. She turned around. "What are you doing in my private bathroom, Malfoy?" she inquired, trying to will her breathing to quit being so erratic. At least she didn't have a blush on her face. She hoped. It didn't help that Draco's normally pale complexion was flushed, making him look not quite so porcelain. It made him look... sexy. Malfoy? Sexy? What in the world had gotten into her mind?

"I, uh, forgot, um," Malfoy stuttered, then seemed to realize that he was staring. He yanked his gray-blue eyes away from her slight form. So, Granger has a nice shaped arse... He could've smacked himself for thinking like that. Get back on topic. Or something. Just get away from thoughts of her rear! And she has delicate collarbones. _Delicate collarbones?_ Oh, yes, he could bloody well imagine complimenting her by that way. Hello, Granger, you look lovely today. I must say, your collarbones are particularly spectacular. Damn it. Well, it was better than saying that she had a nice arse. He doubted he'd get very far with that one.

Hermione wasn't furious or indignant, oddly enough. She had started out with a flush of raw anger, but it had quickly morphed into mischief when she saw how very discomfited he was. Even thought part of her was horrified at what he had seen, and at what he might be thinking, the other part was curious. Curious enough to instigate pick at an open wound, so to speak. Though she rather hoped that he did not associate her with something so gross. "You forgot or I forgot something, Draco?" she asked, radiating innocence. She widened her eyes slightly, giving him her puppy-dog look.

Oh, Merlin! He hadn't expected to walk in on her toweling off. He had no idea this was a bathroom. He had seen a door, thought that she was through there, and opened it. Prat. Next time, he'd learn to knock. He forced himself to look at her again, and immediately his gaze went to the water that was dripping from her hair in rivulets down her skin to be soaked up by the fluffy white towel that was wrapped around her. Okay, maybe next time he would knock. He took in a deep breath. "When we were talking earlier I had forgotten to give you the survey."

She nodded, amazed at how much of a thrill she was getting from Draco's embarrassment. How very sick she was getting in her old age. She couldn't help but to add to the fire, though. She bit her lower lip thoughtfully, gently. "Survey?"

His eyes fixated on her mouth, just like she had planned. "Y-yeah. The one that ... the teachers are doing it, here!" he finished suddenly, thrusting the paper down on the countertop. He then fled the room and, she assumed, from her entire apartment as she heard the door slam. Too bad. She was really starting to enjoy herself. Ah, well.

She picked up the piece of paper. Regular, boring stuff, she noted. It was marked with questions about how she liked her job, complaints, salary, so on and so forth. Someone must've complained. Every once in a while, she had heard, some member of the faculty would complain and surveys would be dispatched. People would come and visit the school, and when they were reassured that everything was okay, everything would go back to normal. The worst part was that every member on-staff was required to fill it out, thus making it the perfect way to get back at another person who was being irritating. She wrinkled her nose and began filling the form out.

The last thing on Draco Malfoy's mind was paper. He couldn't help but to see Hermione naked over and over again. Blast it! He should've known something was going on from the moment that Dumbledore sent him to take that stupid survey with that twinkle in his eye that something was going to go horribly wrong! And then for him to run away like a scared little girl just wasn't right! He took a deep breath, then frowned. Dumbledore, for all his mischief, certainly wouldn't send him to go see Hermione's naked bum... would he? Draco laughed out loud at the thought. It made him feel better, at any rate.

Whoa. He had just seen Hermione Granger naked. Well, her bare rear, anyway. Bloody hell. Of all the women to walk in on, he had to walk in on Hermione-bloody-Granger. Well, thought his traitorous conscience, at least she has a nice bum. Nonono, he argued, that's just because you have been, er, short of rear ends for a while now!

But, it whispered, even so... Exasperated, Malfoy hit his head against the wall.

"Mr. Malfoy, whatever the reason for your annoyance, I am sure it is not worth abusing either my walls or your head over," Dumbledore said, smiling at the blonde haired man.

Malfoy stiffened, then looked down. "Sorry, sir."

"Quite all right. Did you deliver the paper to Hermione?" His eyes held a bit of mirth in them, as if he knew the answer.

Damn it, damn it. Dumbledore had to know. "Yes, sir," he replied tightly, hoping that he betrayed none of his inner thoughts.

A low chuckle let him know that he had little-to-no hope of hiding anything from the Headmaster. "Very well, Draco. I suppose that you wish to retire now, hm? Shall I show you to your room?"

Draco nodded, then followed Dumbledore through the maze that was the school. Once safely alone in his room, he felt the need to "abuse" his head again. This time, though, he slammed his hand against it. "Stupid muggle born! I'm sure she had that planned!" He knew this was even more ridiculous than thinking that Dumbledore had meant for him to walk in on her, but he didn't care. He could just imagine her, waiting maliciously, her ear pressed up against the door. As she heard him reach said door, she scramble into position and wait for him to open it. Damn! Mental image again! He growled.

He had sworn off women for a while. Not to say that he was going to be batting for the other team, but he just wanted to clear his head. Pansy had been quite disappointed, though what they had was nothing more than sex. He detested her otherwise. Her haughty appearance and her downright bitchy attitude got to him almost as bad as his father did. In many ways, she reminded him of his father.

Lucius. He didn't know that his much-despised father was thought about tonight by the same person who he had walked in on. More than general irritation pushed its way through his mind. He hated his father, plain and simple. He hated the things he had done while under his father's control. Some people said he could've broken free earlier than he had. Some people just didn't know.

Draco wrapped himself up tight in his robes, shivering though the room itself was a comfortable temperature. His hatred for his father was part of what stopped him from getting close to any female. He was almost positive Lucius was enjoying this from beyond the grave. He almost didn't care. Let the bastard laugh in the afterlife.

The next day was quite uneventful, much to Hermione's relief. There had been no sign of the governor. She wasn't sure if she should be even more relieved or disappointed. She had rather enjoyed the discussion that she had with Malfoy last night, despite the fact that they were once bitter rivals. She had never noticed before had intelligent she was.

Good grief! Am I thinking good thoughts about Malfoy? She blinked, then flushed when she noticed that twenty pairs of eyes were staring intently at her. She had, she realized, quit talking in the middle of a sentence. She scrambled desperately to recover. "So, yes, that's how you handle, uh, right." Oh, great, Hermione! Real smooth. 

She cleared her throat and tried again. "Since this is the last day before Christmas break, I'm going to let you all go early. And, since every one of my classes did so well on their quizzes, I'm also going to give you a break on homework. Just be sure to study up here and there during the break! Have a great holiday."

A few of the students cheered, but a few more gave her yet another strange look. As they filed out, she returned to her thoughts. Draco Malfoy, of course, was the main topic. He was going to be here for another stupid day. And that meant that it was almost inevitable that she would see him again.

The fact that Christmas was only a few days away did nothing to calm her nerves. She had yet to send a reply to her mother or Harry, though she had them written out and on her desk. Her mind ran over what she had written.

__

"Dear Mum,

I am sorry to say that no, I will not be coming home for Christmas. There is so much to do here, being my first year and all. Next year won't be so hard, as I will already have an idea of what I plan to do. Keeping ahead of these children isn't as easy as I had thought! Some of them almost remind me of, well, myself. That's not a bad thing, but for a teacher, it's not exactly a good thing. I now understand why Snape used to get so annoyed with me. Sort of, anyway.

Give dad my love. I hope you two have a great Christmas, and in a few days some items should be arriving by Muggle mail. Sorry they'll be late.

With lots of love,

Hermione"

At least, she comforted herself, she had sounded somewhat genuine. She _did_ have work to do, after all. Her letter to Harry was much more real, though.

__

"Harry --

"I'm sorry. I know that you wanted to warn me and I thank you for it, but it came a little too late. Ron's letter arrived the same day that yours did. I cried a little, and remembered a lot, but I've gotten over it. It's only been a day, I know, but I think that the months of time inbetween had something to do with it, also. And I miss you, too.

"Snape is still somewhat of a git, but at least he's tolerable now that he can't take points away or give me detention. I can even irritate him without him being rude, seeing as how we're on the same footing. He attempts to annoy me back, but I smile at him and that makes it even worse.

"Hogwarts is much different now that I'm not sneaking about with a couple of idiots. I don't worry about getting in trouble or breaking the rules, and I enjoy my classes even more than when I was student. I'm always learning, and I have access to all of the books in the library -- including the ones in the restricted session! No more getting "autographs" from idiotic teachers for me! The best part is always having what I need on hand. It wouldn't be any trouble to brew a polyjuice potion this time. I really do enjoy my job, though I'm sure you can't imagine doing anything like this yourself. That's okay. I wouldn't want to deliver any kids into your hands anyway. Speaking of kids, are you and Ginny ever going to get married and have some?

I'm not coming home for the holidays. I suppose I'm hiding out, but I'd rather hide out here than be confronted with something I'm just starting to deal with. I'm sorry. I guess it seems cowardly of me, but still..."

Here she had paused, wondering if it was wise to mention Malfoy. She decided against it.

_"I hope that I get to see you soon, you and Ginny both. I hope she does not hold this against me. Much love to the both of you._

Hermione"

She decided to send the letters before she lost her nerve. She tied them both to Ceres' leg, each with a different color ribbon. After very carefully explaining to the owl which was to go to who, she send her beloved pet off, promising a treat when Ceres returned. Afterwards, she sunk down in her chair and thought a bit about Christmas. This time last year she was decorating the tree with her friends and family. This year, the house elves had done it. She had offered to help, but was ushered away. Dumbledore had put on the finishing touch, a star tree-topper, and everyone had admired the lovely sight.

Even Hermione was feeling less jaded. Not all of the wizarding world celebrated Christmas, but since she was of Muggle and Christian heritage, she celebrated it. There had been a time, she mused, when she had celebrated it wholeheartedly. Perhaps being a witch had jaded her. Whatever the reason, she no longer was enchanted by the sounds and sights of the holiday season.

Still, she decided that it was worth getting into the holiday. And her first decision was to go down to Hogsmeade. She was the only person with permission to go who hadn't. She was also tired of being reclusive and elusive. Her conversation with Draco and her letters had forced her to realize just how tired of being alone she was. She was not naturally inclined to be by herself, so it was time to quit fighting her nature and to start getting out again.

She packed some things in a pouch and made her way to the nearby village. Her eyes widened as she took it all in. She had quite forgotten how wonderful the small community was, especially to someone who was confined in the towers of Hogwarts. The school itself had a special magic, but this place was just, well, fun. She could get whatever candy she wanted, she could go into whatever store she wanted, and she could have as much butterbeer as she pleased! What to do first, though?

Her gaze swept around, and she felt another pang. The last time she had been here was with Harry and Ron. The Three Broomsticks, Honeydukes, and Zonko's looked exactly the same... but those times were over! Just because it looked the same didn't mean that she had to experience them the same way! She stepped into the tavern and ordered herself a mug of butterbeer. At the first gulp, she felt a tingly warm sensation. A tingly, warm sensation that turned into a hot, embarrassed sensation as she came face-to-face with Draco. Instead of feeling the incredible rush that she had last night, she took one look at his startled expression and instantly felt whatever warmth had been in her whole body travel to two places -- her cheeks.

"Er, about last night," they started at the same time, then broke off. A few more moments ticked by in silence.

Finally, Hermione had enough. "Oh, geez! It's not like you've never seen a naked woman before!" she snapped, then smiled to soften her words. "I know I'm not the most pleasant of sights to a Malfoy, but you did walk into my bathroom just as I was stepping out of the shower."

He snorted, his mind flitting back to the thoughts that he had entertained after the peek show. "I had it all planned, Granger," replied he dryly.

She nodded, a sparkle in her eye as she regarded him. "I knew it. That surprised look on your face was priceless," she said, then added, "Rather like when you were a ferret."

He groaned. "Bloody 'ell, Hermione, why'd you have to go and bring that up?"

She smiled again, but inside her stomach did some sort of weird flip-flop thing when he called her by her given name.

"Ooh!" one of the students in the tavern crowed. "Lookie Professor Granger!"

Hermione's gaze snapped around. Leigh Patil was the girl's name; she was cousin to Padma and Parvarti. "What is it, Miss Patil?"

"Nothing much, Professor," the girl responded, smirking. "Just that you and Governor Malfoy are standing under what I believe to be mistletoe."

Simultaneously, Malfoy and Granger looked up, then at one another. The absolute shock that Hermione felt was echoed in Draco's features. They looked away from each other.

"Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!" The sentiment seemed to be coming from all the patrons in The Three Broomsticks.

"It's all right, Malfoy. I quite understand you not wanting to kiss a Muggle born." Hermione's voice was thick and unnatural.

"I'd understand you not wanting to kiss a jerk of a Malfoy like me, Hermione," he returned.

"It's tradition!" Leigh shouted out.

Hermione wanted to strangle her.

And Malfoy... laughed? She stared at him in disbelief, then anger. Oh, he was laughing, was he? Well, she'd show him!

Mustering all the courage that she had (considerable amount, considering that she was a Gryffindor), she grabbed a hold of the front of his robes and hauled his face down to hers.

---

Well, there you go. As stated above -- I own not Harry Potter (or Draco Malfoy, much to my dismay. Even if he is a bit younger than I am in the latest installment of the HP series). They belong to the wonderful JK Rowling. This story merely passes the time while waiting for the fifth book to come out. Much thanks go to Jared for giving me the "would you rather me compliment your butt" thought. ^_^ As always, reviews are appreciated and, if you ask something, I'll answer it. Hope everyone is having a wonderful Christmas!


	5. chapter 05

I do not own Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley, Draco Malfoy (much to my disappointment -- I would love an older version), or any of the others that go along with the Harry Potter series. They belong to J. K. Rowling. I have written this fanfiction for fun, not profit. I don't have any money. =P

****

Return to Hogwarts

Chapter 05

What an odd dream, thought Hermione hazily. It wasn't that she hadn't had dreams like this before. She'd had dreams about kissing. Of course, none of them had her kissing Draco Malfoy. Somehow, even though she felt that she should be repulsed, she wasn't.

The oddest part, however, was not the lack of disgust. It was the applause. Time to wake up, it seemed, before she started dreaming of dancing pink baboons. So she opened her eyes.

Unfortunately, they were met with a pair of gray eyes. She stared, and then became aware of the fact that the clapping had not in any way diminished. If anything, it became more tumultuous. She cleared her throat slowly, then blinked. It didn't work. His face, including his trademark smirk, was still there. Her heart sank.

For a brief, wild moment, she thought perhaps this was one of those dreams where you thought you woke up but you really hadn't and so she did the only thing that she could've gotten away with in her dream. She slapped that perfect, cold beauty in front of her, her hand connection firmly with a resounding crack.

The applause stopped, and there was a collective gasp from everyone around. The handprint, which showed her five slender fingers perfectly, rapidly became a vivid red mark on his pale cheek. She watched it spread to color the whole of his face in morbid fascination.

No, this wasn't a dream. Time to do the thing that most animals, human or not, do in situations like this… FLEE! Hermione threw whatever was left of her dignity out the window and ran out of the Three Broomsticks. She stumbled on the dirt street, skinned her knees, but she picked herself up and kept on going. What the hell was she thinking? Standing inside of the damned pub snogging that damned bastard for all he was worth? It was enough to make her scream!

And what if someone saw? She stopped, panting. What do you mean 'what if someone saw?' The whole stupid school did! Well, okay, not the whole school, but a good portion of the older students did. She took a few deep breaths.

I kissed Draco Malfoy. The thought rolled around in her head, and finally she said it out loud. "I kissed Draco Malfoy." Her voice was small, wavering. However, the words did not, contrary to popular belief, leave a bad taste in her mouth. She cleared her throat and tried again. "I kissed Draco Malfoy. I kissed him full on the mouth, and, all-in-all, it wasn't a bad experience." There! Her voice had more of the commanding tone that she had adapted for use in her teaching.

Feeling a bit more in control of herself, she started back towards Hogwarts at a walk. After a few steps she got the distinct feeling that she was being followed. She paused, pretending to adjust her clothes. Holding her breath, she listened very carefully for any noises outside of the normal rustling of leaves or people talking back in the village. A pause, and then a crunching noise was heard. Very careful, very deliberate footsteps were being placed towards her. She grabbed her wand, turned, and thrust it out. "I've got a wand!"

"And I've got your lipstick smudged on me," Draco drawled.

Damn it. Of all the people in all the world, it had to be Malfoy! "I don't wear lipstick," she managed to reply, even though she was shaking. She felt her face get hot.

He licked his lips slowly. She could see them glistening faintly in the moonlight if she looked hard enough. Not that she was looking hard at his lips. "Hmm. I take that back. I'd say it was grape-flavored lip-gloss. Never thought you to be the grape kind. Always imagined you as a, hm," he regarded her thoughtfully before continuing, "vanilla sort. And, by the way it managed to wear from your lips to mine, I'd say it was made by muggles. Wizard stuff never smudges, you know. Then again, you were kissing me rather soundly."

If she hadn't already done it once, she would've slapped him again. As it was, though, she still saw the flaming red mark on his face. She wondered at that; she knew he was talented enough to mutter a simple charm and make his face spotless once again. "Push off, Malfoy," she said half-heartedly. She really did not want to have a scene right here in the open. Well, at least, as open as a street was at nighttime. A street that was kind of off the way and not really near anything. Okay, fine, they weren't in the open, not really, but she didn't want to have a row either way!

"What's wrong, Hermione?" he asked, taking a step towards her. His eyes glinted with an odd light.

"Stop it." Her voice sounded unnatural, strained. She wondered what it was exactly that had just made her mouth go dry and her heart start beating a little faster. It was fear. Fear, plain and simple. Yup. No bit of longing or lust in her body, no way sir. Was there?

She never got the chance to fully ponder this line of thought as Draco pressed his lips against hers forcefully, reminiscent of the way that she had to his minutes earlier. She struggled briefly, then gave in. As soon as she did, it became softer, more gentle. And, just as she was beginning to get really into it, he shoved her away.

She clutched at a fence post, desperately trying to get her breath back while looking like nothing was bothering her. The moonlight had shifted, leaving Draco's face shadowed and indistinct. She had the feeling that he was avoiding looking at her. "What are you playing at?" she growled, suddenly angry. She released her grip on the post, ignoring her protesting knuckles, and planted her hands on her hips.

What he did next was, unknown to him, the absolute worst thing he could've done in this situation. He laughed. "Oh, Granger, you are amusing! What am I playing at? What are you playing at? First you give me a strip tease, and then you try to suck the life out of me! Tsk!"

"Damn you, Malfoy," she growled. She turned to walk off -- this time with dignity, she hoped. 

Unfortunately, that wasn't the entire incident. Though Christmas came and went, word was still buzzing about Hermione and Draco's kiss. He'd left right after Christmas, but where to, she didn't know. She was avoiding him like the plague and, thanks to a few well-placed locking charms, it wasn't that hard. She didn't know if he had looked for her at all; she was afraid and embarrassed to ask. And, it seemed that her embarrassment would not end simply with the ending of his visit.

"Albus, I really must insist that this type of behavior is unacceptable!" Snape exclaimed.

Hermione tried to sink into her seat. The fact that it was wooden did nothing to help her at all. The greasy git would just have to try to get her into trouble about this, wouldn't he?

"Not, Severus, Hermione is a professor, not a student," Dumbledore interjected.

"But making out in the midst of Hogwarts students is hardly something that a _respectable_ professor would do." Snape glared at Hermione. She pressed her lips together firmly, refusing to rise to his jibe.

"All right, all right," Minerva said. "We hear you, Severus."

"Do you have anything that you would like to say, Hermione?" Albus asked her kindly.

She hated this whole deal. Severus was the only one who had seen fit to make a scene, and indeed he did. She couldn't quite understand why it bothered the Potions Master, but she didn't really care too much. She cleared her throat. "Yes, as a matter of fact, I do," she started in her best know-it-all voice. "I don't see where it is anyone's business, least of all yours, Severus, as to who I kiss. There weren't that many students there, and the ones who were certainly have seen snogging in their lives before. I did not molest or ravage the man."

There was a slight coughing noise from the general direction of McGonagall, but it was so faint that Hermione couldn't quite be sure. There was a long silence after that.

Snape broke it by sputtering indignantly. His face had been darkening slowly after her words, but at this point it was crimson. "How dare you talk to me like that!"

"You know," Hermione said, warming up, "I have put up with your rather rude behavior since I got here! And I've just about had it! Yes, I was your student. Yes, I am young. But I was also one of the highest scoring student in the history of Hogwarts, Muggle or not! So don't give me this whole bullshit" -- tsking from Minerva -- "about this having anything to do with my snogging Draco! This has to do with whatever grudge you've held against me. If it's for being a Gryffindor, or for being friends with Harry Potter, I don't know! But I do know that I've had it! I tried to be pleasant to you, but that apparently was too hard for you to comprehend. So now I'm through with it, and with you. Leave me alone, Severus Snape!"

All of the assembled teachers stared at her. Professor Dumbledore's lips quirked and his eyes might've twinkled, but she wasn't looking at him. She was staring at Snape, her chocolate colored eyes almost black with anger. He was staring back just as hard, but his face was slowly draining of all color. "I think, Miss Granger, that you are out of line," his reply came, thick with rage.

"No, Snape, it is you out of line. I am a professor here, and as such, I deserve some respect. You may not like me, you may not think I'm old enough, but I am here and I'm here to stay."

He glared at her, and through her. When that didn't work, he swept out of the room, his robe billowing dramatically. She sighed and slumped down in her chair before realizing she was still in a meeting with the other teachers. She cleared her throat. "I do apologize for that," she started awkwardly.

"No need, Hermione. We understand," Minerva said, patting her hand.

"I do know that what I did was not appropriate, but I do not think it inappropriate, either." She broke off with a sigh.

"It's quite all right, Hermione," Albus reinforced what McGonagall had said. He patted her shoulder, opposite of where Minerva was still patting her hand. She would've glared up at them suspicious, but hardly thought it wise in her situation. She settled for shifting uneasily.

"Well, now, since that's all over, how about we go have a nice cup of tea?" Dumbledore said to the room in general. There was a murmur of agreement, and they all filed out.

Well, that certainly was interesting, she reflected.

Draco Malfoy had, at least, escaped Hermione's fate. He was sealed back up in Malfoy Manor, his usually impeccable clothing replaced with frayed, old robes. If only his old schoolmates could see him now. His hair, which most people would've thought glued in place eternally, was every bit as mussed as Potter's could be on a bad day. And this was indeed one of those days.

He was brooding. Nobody could brood like a Malfoy, especially one who thinks that he has a reason to do so. It was lonely, and though the fire was warm, there was a chill in the air. He never would admit to it, but he missed his mother. Perhaps Narcissa was weak in some ways, but she always did care for him. Sort of. Well, as much as she could with Lucius demanding her attention every five minutes. Either way, she always sent him sweets while he was at school and lovely little notes. And now she was in St. Mungo's, probably conversing about daisies with the Longbottoms. Damn Lucius!

Draco's thin lips curved into a sneer. It was his only friend in times like these, that sneer. It had served him well over the years. And now, it turned its powers upon the fireplace. The fireplace ignored it. Draco sighed.

"Will Master Malfoy be wanting anything else?" a miscellaneous house elf wearily asked Draco, knowing that the pale man was again in one of his moods.

"No, you can go retire for the night." The words slipped out before he could stop them, and he knew the instant they were out he would be regretting them.

"Oh, no sir! Middie must be doing the housework, sir! You will not find Middie lax on the job, sir!" the house elf shot out, and then started rambling out all of her duties.

"Okay, okay, okay," Draco interrupted, holding up a slender hand. He watched the light from the flames dance on it for a second, and then motioned for the dirty creature to leave him. He wondered briefly why she never took a bath, then shrugged to himself. At least she didn't stink.

He sipped tentatively at a small glass of scotch on the rocks. Though he detested the stuff he still forced himself to choke down enough on nights like these to slip into a dreamless sleep at the end of the night. No magic managed to do the same thing as the simple, Muggle-brewed drink. The fact that it tasted worse than some of the joke candies from Zonko's did nothing to lessen his determined drinking.

Tonight, however, he was going almost easy on the foul stuff. His mind shifted back and forth like quicksilver. Topics were given a cursory glance and then discarded. The ones with a bit more interest were filed for later on in the night, when he could sulk on the brink of alcohol-induced slumber.

As the night wore on, those thoughts became more prominent. His mind wandered, not for the first time, to the Muggle born Hermione. He couldn't bring himself to say mudblood anymore, not even in his mind.

A few years ago he hadn't even thought of the possibility of kissing her. Okay, maybe a few times here and there the thought popped up, but it was more of an arrogant 'Granger would be lucky if I did' type of thought. And now, after a brief stay at Hogwarts in his school governor capacity, he had not only kissed her but got to see her naked. Well, anyway, part of her. It was a very nice part. One that he wouldn't mind seeing again.

And therein lay the problem. He didn't want to have thoughts like these. He was, for the moment, sexless. That's not to say that he was any less male. He permitted a wry smile to touch his lips, but it soon vanished. He needed to clear his head, to get thoughts of her out of it.

But, unfortunately, it seemed that the little witch had him bewitched. Damn it.

This was going to be damaging to his Muggle-hating reputation. Then again, he hadn't had that reputation for a while. He did help to defeat Voldemort and Lucius. Somehow, that seemed to erase all the wrong-doings that Draco had committed, at least, in some people's minds. It didn't in Draco's. And he doubted that it had changed his standing in Hermione's list, despite their talk and kiss. 

He gritted his teeth. It would never be good enough, would it?

Working for redemption is great, so long as you don't expect to actually receive any.


	6. chapter 06

Not too soon after the Malfoy Incident, as it came to be known, Hermione got another surprise.

She was sitting in her apartment one night, watching the glow in the fireplace and thinking about the day's lessons. Her mind was, at the moment, content. She loved teaching.

A knock on the door brought her out of her reverie. She wrapped her fluffy crimson colored bathrobe around herself tighter and slowly walked over to her door. She opened it, expecting to see either Albus or Minerva on the other side.

Instead, however, bright green eyes stared at her intently. "'ello, Hermione," Harry said softly.

She gasped. "Harry?"

He smiled that wide smile that somehow made his whole face brighten. "Good to know you haven't forgotten me!"

Hermione laughed. "Oh, Harry! As if I could ever forget you. After all, you are on the cover of Witch Weekly, well, weekly."

"If you remember me so well, how come Ginny and I are still standing out in the hallway?" he teased.

Hermione's eyes widened as she now took in the shock of red hair behind Harry. "Oh, Ginny! I didn't even see you there."

The petite girl – no, now a lady – chuckled. "And you were always the most observant of us all, Hermione. I suppose Harry has gotten so big that you couldn't see me."

Hermione grinned back, then flushed as she remembered the state of her apartment. "Oh, dear," she muttered, half-turning. "Um. Hold on."

She hoped that they wouldn't be too offended as she pretty much shut the door in Harry's face. Grabbing her wand, she said a quick incantation that at least hid her panties and other lacy garments away before reopening the door. "Come in!" she said cheerfully.

"Well, Mione, I suppose that you've given up your anally clean ways," Harry said, noticing the paperwork scattered about.

"I took a few lessons from you," Hermione replied. She studied her two friends, ignoring Ginny's painful resemblance to Ron, and her brow furrowed. "What're you two doing here?"

Harry shifted, a small patch of red hightening on his cheek. "Uh, well," he started awkwardly.

Ginny rolled her eyes at her fiancee. "What he means to say, in his own eloquent way, is that Albus invited us here because he thought that Harry could spice up your classes a bit. After all, he is practically a study in himself in regards to defending one's self against the dark arts," she said, her voice mimicking the old wizard's.

"Oh?" Hermione inquired with a touch of a frown. He hadn't discussed it with her, and she'd already written up the lesson plans to last until the end of the school year!

Harry noticed Hermione's displeasure. "So you didn't know at all?"

"No," she replied shortly before taking a seat in her chair. She gestured for them to sit on the couch nearby. "Make yourself comfortable. Have you had anything to eat? Thirsty?" At their nod to the last one, she rang a bell for the kitchen, and presently a house elf appeared with a few glasses of pumpkin juice.

Harry took a drink appreciatively. "You still remember my favorite."

"How could I forget? I could've sworn that you were getting an orange tinge during our last year here."

There was another pause. Hermione took the opportunity to use a Muggle poker, stroking the fire delicately. A log popped loudly.

"Did you and Albus talk about anything else?" Hermione asked.

Harry's eyes shifted away from her. "Ah, no."

She sighed. "You always were terrible at lying, Harry Potter." Hermione turned her face towards the flame but she still heard a slight 'ooph' as Ginny's elbow was introduced to Harry's ribs. "What have your heard?"

"I should go check on our room and on Hedwig." Harry smiled at Ginny, nodded to Hermione, and fairly fled the room.

Hermione watched him go, a slightly amused look crossing her face. "That wasn't obvious at all."

Ginny sighed. "Hermione, I know that things haven't been easy for you. Ron's sorry, though."

"Hmm," Hermione said.

"And I just wish that you and I would be friends like we were." Ginny walked over and placed her hand on the arm of Hermione's chair. "We miss you."

"Oh?" Hermione was angry suddenly. Her brown eyes flashed. "You miss _me_? Ron's sorry? Am I supposed to sit here and cry on your shoulder and say 'oh, that's okay!' Am I supposed to act like I'm sorry for the way I behaved?"

Ginny fell back, stunned by the older woman's outburst.

"Furthermore, I don't need you or Harry to come here and hold my hand!" She jumped up from the chair, her hair flouncing. "You don't know what's best for me, Ginny! I can snog whoever I bloody well please, be it Ron or Draco! And it really pleased me to kiss Draco!"

Ginny, forgetting her prior fear, grabbed at Hermione's arm. "You kissed Draco? _Draco Malfoy?_"

Hermione shook Ginny's hand off, then groaned. "You mean he didn't tell you?"

The redhead's eyes widened further. "You kissed Draco Malfoy and Dumbledore knows about it?" she screeched.

"Ginny, shush!" Hermione said, clasping a hand over her friend's mouth. When she felt that Ginny had sufficiently calmed down she removed it. "I had assumed that Dumbledore had told you, which was the reason why you were here."

"No, Mione, honest! He said that you were feeling down and needed some friends here."

Hermione nodded, then frowned. "So why start in with the 'Ron is a saint' bit?" she inquired.

Ginny shifted, reminiscent of Harry. "Well, he is my brother."

"And he was my boyfriend," Hermione reminded her. "He was my best friend for several years, too. I know that he has his good points. Unfortunately, I also know that he has his bad ones. In some cases I might overlook these, but in others… I can't."

"What was it like?" Ginny asked abruptly.

"Huh?" Hermione was unprepared for this question.

"Kissing Draco! What was it like?" Ginny asked, grinning with girlish glee.

Hermione blushed. "It was, um," she stammered, then rallied. "It was like kissing fire."

Ginny looked confused.

"Gosh, how do I explain it," Hermione mused. "I felt like I was in a dream. I'm afraid that if I keep playing with the fire I'm going to get burned, as that saying goes."

"And if you learn to tame the fire?" Ginny inquired impishly.

"Then I think I'm going to have to start wearing oven mitts," Hermione replied, chuckling.

Harry wandered about the halls of Hogwarts, relieved for two reasons. The first was that he was glad it was rather late, as he was always conscious of the stares that he received. Yes, he thought bleakly, I have a lightning bolt-shaped scar on my forehead. Yes, I did have a showdown with Voldemort, aka the Big Ugly. But that doesn't mean that I want or need a fanbase. After all, what I did was out of necessity. You wouldn't like it if someone singled you out for destruction, simply because they didn't kill you the first time around.

He sighed, and diverted his mind over to other things. Why in the world had Hermione reacted that way? All Dumbledore had said was that Hermione had seemed lonely and that he thought she would like some company. And yet Hermione had reacted in a way that made Harry question just what she had been doing to pass the time.

He stopped, glancing up. The library didn't seem quite so foreboding as it once did. He almost expected to see a young Hermione sitting in there, pouring over ancient tomes. Instead, Madam Pince just gave him a sour look and continued restoring the books to their right places. He grinned ruefully; he was sure that she remembered all the times that they'd snuck into the forbidden part of the library.

Turning, he ran smack into the one person that he really didn't want to see on his trip, even if they had come to a tentative truce. "Ah, Potter, there you are. Dumbledore had said that some visitors were coming."

Harry gave him a sour look. "Can't anything I do be private?"

"Not when you are the Boy Who Lived, twice over." There was no bitterness in the older wizard's voice, just a touch of irony.

Harry chuckled. "There is that. How are you, old man?"

"Old man?" Snape visibly bristled. "Why, I'll have you know –"

"If you say that in my day you were a top wizard and you still are, you're just proving my statement."

Snape glared, but somehow that didn't give Harry the same fear that it once had. "Potter, you always were good at infuriating me."

The black-haired man looked at him innocently. "I have no idea what you mean, sir."

"I suppose you are here to see Hermione," said Severus, neatly changing the subject.

"Yeah. Dumbledore said she was having some problems." Harry leaned up against the familiar stone walls, narrowing his eyes thoughtfully as he gazed at the floor.

"Snogging in the middle of Hogsmeade isn't what I'd call some problems, Potter."

Harry's gaze jerked back up. "She was _what_?"

Snape, if possible, paled.

"Who was she snogging?" Harry's brow furrowed, and he looked up at his former Potions Master. "Not," he hesitated, "not you, sir?"

Snape actually laughed at this one. "No, Potter, and banish such thoughts from your head!" He looked pensive for a moment. "You didn't know?"

Harry made a face. "No."

"Well then, Potter. Maybe you should put those snooping skills of yours to use and find out more," said Snape coolly. He turned, his robes billowing out in their usual theatrical way, and stalked off.

Harry watched him for a moment, and then shook his head. Once a bat, always a bat.

When he got back to Hermione's rooms it wasn't any better. The two girls were giggling and whispering, making him wonder if somehow he'd gotten sent back in time and was in the Gryffindors girls' dorms. When they saw him, however, Ginny jumped up and kissed him on the cheek. He smiled down at her and then glanced at the not-so-reserved Hermione, who was still tittering.

"So, Mione, who's the lucky chap?"

Hermione clasped her hands over her mouth. "Who told you?" she demanded.

"Ol' Batty himself. So spill!"

Hermione's face darkened, and she jumped up from the couch. "Snape told you, eh? Well, I guess I didn't tell him enough before!" She stormed out of the room. She heard the other two follow, but she didn't care. She made her way to the dungeons, shivering slightly at the chill in the air.

"Snape! Open up!" she shouted, banging on the portrait. Leave it to that antisocial git to have a portrait covering his doorway, instead of just a regular door.

"Now, girl, don't go messing my threads up!" the portrait protested.

"Miss Granger, that really isn't necessary," Snape said, coming from the shadows behind her. She whirled, her brown eyes shooting daggers.

"You want to know what isn't necessary?" she inquired sweetly.

"I'm sure you are going to tell me, Granger," Snape replied.

"You overgrown bat! You have so much concern in my life, but what about your own? Eh? Why do you care about who I kiss? Why don't you find someone to snog!"

"Miss Granger, I merely was trying to—"

"To stick your overlarge nose in my business? Oh, god! How could I ever think that you were halfway decent!"

"Maybe I just don't want to see your talents wasted on a person like him," interjected Severus.

She paused, staring.

He muttered something under his breath that she didn't quite catch and the portrait sprung open. "By the way," he added as he stepped inside his room, "nice bathrobe."


End file.
